Do Villains Deserve Empathy? Kanye West’s Sexual-Assault Revelation Sparks Layered Debates

For a lot of people, hearing that Kanye West has said or done something outlandish no longer lands with the shock-and-awe it did in 2006, 2009, 2016, or even last year. Yet on April 21, he previewed a new record called “Cousins” on X (formerly Twitter), claiming in both the song and a string of now-deleted posts that he’d engaged in sexual activity with a male cousin until he was 14. The cousin, now incarcerated for murder, has already fired back from prison to say it never happened. Whether that truth lives in the studio booth or the cell block, only the two of them know.

Most survivors who share childhood sexual-assault stories are met with compassion. West, instead, ran face-first into homophobic jeers. X users wasted no time turning his disclosure into slurs and punchlines.

The tenor stands in sharp contrast to the empathy showered on YG when he rapped about childhood assault earlier this spring. Why? West’s own record of bigotry—particularly antisemitic screeds and his March tirade aimed at Beyoncé and JAY-Z’s twins—has drained the well of goodwill.

In the track, West details experiences of early exposure to pornographic material and subsequent sexual acts between himself and his cousin, who is now incarcerated for the murder of a pregnant woman. He expresses feelings of guilt, suggesting that introducing his cousin to explicit content may have influenced his cousin’s later actions. The lyrics include explicit references to their experiences, highlighting a childhood marked by trauma and complex emotions.

This incident intersects with broader conversations about mental health, particularly within the Black community and the hip-hop industry. Artists like YG have recently shared their own experiences with childhood sexual assault, receiving support and sparking discussions about the importance of mental health awareness. Similarly, Vic Mensa has been vocal about his mental health journey, advocating for therapy and emotional openness among Black men.

Why the difference? West’s own track record is hard to ignore. From antisemitic rants that aligned with Ku Klux Klan talking points to a recent jab at Beyoncé and JAY-Z’s twins, he has sprayed vitriol at nearly every corner of public life. Many fans—and plenty of former fans—are exhausted. Now he has delivered a confession so personal, so graphic, that fatigue turns into a fresh disbelief. Do villains deserve empathy, too?

Two truths can coexist: Kanye’s revelation likely stems from genuine trauma, and his years of bigotry have emptied the reservoir of grace most people extend to the vulnerable.

So where does that leave him—and us? West alludes to “Cousins” being therapy through art, an exorcism on wax. It may help him heal; it will not erase the communities he’s hurt. Listeners are left to weigh the confession against the collateral damage, deciding for themselves whether empathy is part of the equation or another line Kanye West has already crossed.

As the public grapples with the implications of “Cousins,” the conversation extends beyond West himself, prompting reflection on how society addresses childhood trauma, the responsibilities of public figures, and the complexities of forgiveness and understanding.